New Year's Eve in Paris
by Xzeihoranth
Summary: New Year's Eve wasn't quite what Booker or Elizabeth had wanted, but they wouldn't change it for anything in any world...


_"Consider how common illness is, how tremendous the spiritual change that it brings, how astonishing, when the lights of health go down, the undiscovered countries that are then disclosed, what wastes and deserts of the soul a slight attack of influenza brings to view, what precipices and lawns sprinkled with bright flowers a little rise of temperature reveals, what ancient and obdurate oaks are uprooted in us by the act of sickness, how we go down in the pit of death and feel the waters of annihilation close above our heads and wake thinking to find ourselves in the presence of the angels and the harpers when we have a tooth out and come to the surface in the dentist's arm-chair and confuse his 'Rinse the mouth-rinse the mouth' with the greeting of the Deity stooping from the floor of Heaven to welcome us - when we think of this, as we are so frequently forced to think of it, it becomes strange indeed that illness has not taken its place with love and battle and jealousy among the prime themes of literature." - Virgina Woolf_

* * *

Elizabeth couldn't make up her mind whether she should be upset or depressed. Paris on New Year's Eve seemed even more wonderful than she'd imagined, perhaps in part because it was so close and yet still so far away. Two days ago, she'd come down with a cough, and, later that very day, developed a fever of a hundred and five degrees. Booker had reluctantly confined her to bed and her protests seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. Perhaps if her fever had been just a few tenths of a degree lower, she might have been able to see the tear that slid down his cheek as he closed the door. Now, all she could see was the city of her dreams, spread out before her window like a softly glowing carpet.

Sleep brought little comfort. Her dreams were muddled and indescribably terrifying, even for a girl who had seen the world between worlds. Always it seemed as if something was keeping Booker away from her; sometimes she saw him slip sadly away from her as they made for a new lighthouse. Sometimes it seemed she stood in front of a strange blue machine that barked orders at her in a shrill staccato voice. Sometimes she could see nothing but a cloud made of something _other_ passing between the stars, and she woke drenched in sweat.

The apartment had been empty when she pulled open her bedroom door and staggered wearily into the bathroom. She'd nearly fallen asleep in the shower; when she got out, the water had turned cold and a fresh set of clothes had been left on the mat. She smiled faintly and tried to keep the smile on her face until she'd gotten dressed. There were too many things jostling about in her head, however, and by the time she opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the apartment, it had gone. Booker called to her from the kitchen, asked her if she was hungry. She mumbled something noncommittal and trudged back to her bedroom.

As she climbed slowly under the sheets, the clock on the nightstand began to beep insistently. She groped for it and glared uncomprehendingly at the neon red numbers flashing away at her. Realization came to her as the first fireworks began to boom overhead. Paris. A new year. _Freedom._

There was a knock at the door. The handle turned, and Booker stood there, silhouetted against the bright lights of the hallway. In one hand, he held a baguette; in the other, a plate of cheeses. Elizabeth laughed aloud, then coughed. Earlier, it would have irritated her as it had the past two days, but now, she just laughed again, laughed it off. He sat down beside her on the bed and broke off a piece of the baguette for her. She took it, but just as she began to thank him, a brilliant flash of blue lit up the room and they both turned to watch.

Happy was too strong a word, thankful too weak. She turned back to Booker with a look in her eyes that she hadn't felt in over a year, and gave him the hardest hug she could manage. He asked her why. She said nothing, just nestled closer to him. Tears came to both of their eyes, but it was still a happy new year.


End file.
